


Perfect Now

by Throwthemflowers



Series: Always You [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Exes, Gender Dysphoria, Happy ending don't worry, Implied Relationships, M/M, SO MUCH ANGST I'M SORRY, gender fluidity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23502151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Throwthemflowers/pseuds/Throwthemflowers
Summary: Emma (@sashinalash), thank you so much for your brit picking (and in-general spelling picking) you're the sweetest and best. This is the last of the saga, I hope you enjoyed my angst fest of canon-compliant totally imagined exes fics. As always, I'm @hazzabeeforlou on tumblr <3 Toni
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: Always You [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656031
Comments: 20
Kudos: 74





	Perfect Now

**Author's Note:**

> Emma (@sashinalash), thank you so much for your brit picking (and in-general spelling picking) you're the sweetest and best. This is the last of the saga, I hope you enjoyed my angst fest of canon-compliant totally imagined exes fics. As always, I'm @hazzabeeforlou on tumblr <3 Toni

Harry missed clouds. Sunlight illuminated too much, and as he stood watching Louis from the second story window of their LA home— _his_ home now, technically—he wished for fog or rain or a fucking hurricane. 

“Sure, sure, and you’re fine with it then, just rolling with the punches, are you?” 

“More crawling than rolling, but something like that. It’s strange jet setting off places.” 

The man opposite Louis, a well-built blonde with long limbs and a jawbone to rival Brad Pitt, motioned offhandedly as he said this, idly stepping nearer into Louis’ space. Eleanor and her fiance, who formed the point of the triangle Harry had been surveilling, laughed along with Louis at the blonde man’s response. 

“I wish I had me own personal trainer comin’ with me everywhere I went, that’s luxury that is.” 

“Don’t lie,” Eleanor shoved Louis’ arm gently, “You wouldn’t listen to a single thing he said.” 

“Might do if this was me motivation, El,” Louis retorted, and the two of them shared a snicker. 

“Well, before I forget, here’s your key. We should really head out before traffic gets bad again. Thanks for letting us crash, Jaques had a lovely first time in LA.”

“Better than lovely. Really appreciated it, Louis, thank you.” 

“My pleasure mate, any time.” Louis shook the blonde man’s hand, their eyes locking for a moment too long as Eleanor and her betrothed made their way towards the garden gate. 

When the trio had departed and Harry heard the porch’s sliding door close, he ventured downstairs to the kitchen. Two empty mugs sat by the sink, but no breakfast food lay out. Louis had plopped himself down on a stool and was scrolling through his phone, but glanced up with a smile as Harry entered the room. 

“Odd being up before you,” he murmured with a lackadaisical air, but as Harry took him in, observing his sleep rumpled hair and bleary morning eyes, Louis shifted and cleared his throat, speaking quicker as if needing to get the whole sentence out in one breath of air. “Just got the key to my place back so I can get out of your hair now.” 

Harry tried not to let disappointment sag his shoulders and purposely refrained from blurting out a protest. “Was nice of you to let them stay. Just El and her fiance?” He pulled down two handmade porcelain bowls, each painted with intricate, colorful patterns, and hoped focusing on yogurt and fruit would keep the green from showing on his face. 

“No, actually. El’s trainer came too, was Clancy’s old friend from school so they wanted to make a sight-seeing trip of it.” 

“I see.” Harry peeled two bananas and proceeded to cut them up too feverishly atop scoops of yogurt. “Maybe he’ll be around more often now that he’s her trainer,” he prodded.

Louis wore a quizzical expression as he looked up from his phone to watch Harry dump two handfulls of blueberries into the twin bowls. “Perhaps. You know I hardly see her now, though.” 

“Mmm,” Harry shrugged, slicing several strawberries into the mix too, then sprinkling the top with granola crumbles and a dash of cinnamon. He slid one bowl to Louis, followed by a spoon. 

“Breakfast.” Louis looked down at the food and gave a prolonged sigh, puffing his cheeks out and looking adorably like a chipmunk.

“Something wrong with it?” Harry tried to keep the snap out of his tone but clearly failed, because Louis hurriedly picked up his spoon and pasted on a smile. 

“Not a thing, nope, looks lovely Haz. See you got my fresh fruits and seed-protein and that healthy fatty yogurt and everything.” 

“Greek,” Harry corrected, coming around the worktop to sit next to him. 

“I haven’t done breakfast in a while, that’s all.” 

“I’m always telling you it’s the most important meal of the day.” 

“I’m aware.” 

They ate in silence, both absorbed in their phone screens, the antiseptic California sun streaming through the windows. The previous four days had been their longest period of cohabitation since the split, but even under the same roof Louis had mostly retreated to the guest room or the studio or the den, finding cubbies to occupy that didn’t carry too many marks of Harry’s presence. Even their mornings had been spent apart, Louis heading out to the gym at whatever noon-ish time he usually woke up. This was their first proper breakfast.

They’d fucked, of course, every night, and once in the mid-afternoon, but this only served to highlight the real distance between them, for afterwards Louis would disappear, retreating to the guest room in the wee hours of the morning and leaving Harry to wake up alone. Harry hated waking up alone. By the second night of this he’d begun to realize that no amount of physical sex, no matter how insanely good—and of course it was insanely good, it was _Louis_ —could make up for emotional intimacy. Harry ached for his former partner in places he knew nerves ending didn’t exist. He had hoped that the little staycation would bring them closer together than the few encounters they’d had up until that point, that Louis would fuck him then hold him close and talk about all the ways they were going to make it work this time, that they would recommit to each other over tears and kisses. 

But they didn’t talk at all; they had sex, they cried out each others’ names, they even exchanged whispered I love yous, but never would Louis let even the hint of discussion see the light. It felt calculated to Harry, how Louis held him just long enough, just until he fell asleep, and no longer. His feelings of betrayal had grown with each morning of rolling over to find his bed empty. Despite the slow progress they’d made over the last few weeks, it seemed now that Harry kept hitting barricades, like his advances inwards were only _more_ impeded the harder he tried to muscle his way through to his ex’s heart. Louis’ defences were too strong. Nothing could penetrate such high walls. 

“You’re not in my hair, and you wouldn’t have to get out of it if you were,” Harry offered around a bite of blueberry and yogurt that stained his tongue. “You could stay. You could come home.” He knew the offer was a risky one, but when had he ever been shy about laying his cards on the table. 

Louis placed his spoon down gently against the bowl edge. “Haz—”

“I’ve tried so hard to make this work again, I’ve tried to be here for you and be present and let you see how I’m feeling—”

“Baby.” Louis said the word with such heaviness that it crushed every other sound in the room. “I’ve told you. I’m not sure I can.” 

“What’s to _can_ about it, just let me love you, you don’t have to say you love me, you don’t—”

“S’not that. I know you love me.”

“Then _what_.” 

Louis pushed a blueberry around in the yogurt with his finger. “I just don’t think I can be here again.” 

“ _God_ Louis!” Harry threw up his arms in exasperation. “What more can I do, what more do you want of me? You have my fucking _soul_! I feel like a teenager pining over you Lou, like I’m sixteen again and don’t know if I can touch you yet. What more can I do? Dye my hair blonde and become a personal trainer?” Harry spat this last part venomously. 

“ _Christ_ Harry.” Louis stood, his stool scraping the floor in a screech. “It’s not about _you_ , what _you_ can do, alright? Not every fooking thing in this world revolves around you, shocker, I know, but someone has to bloody tell you.” Louis flicked his fringe out of his face with a ferocity that made him look, for a moment, like a prowling lion. “Wanna know the truth? You're gonna make me say it, make me the one that ends this again because you’re too immature to recognise when something’s dying? _This isn’t enough for me anymore_.” 

Harry stopped breathing and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, dry as sandpaper. “What?”

“This, what we have. It’s not… baby I’m sorry.” 

The lyrics of _Home_ flashed through Harry’s mind at light speed, the reversal of those words so much more devastating coming from the person who once birthed them. In seconds his eyes had filled with tears. 

“We’re not the same boys we were then,” Louis said, coming to Harry’s side and planting a kiss on his still sleep-greasy forehead. “We’ve changed.” 

“ _You’ve_ changed,” Harry bit back, the bitterness that had been building within him all morning finally finding an outlet in his posture. He leaned away from Louis, stiff, but Louis only smiled, a sad twist of his lips that broke what little remained of Harry’s heart. 

“And that’s why I said it’s not about you.” 

“No.” Harry felt his lower lip trembling. “That’s bullshit. People only say that when it’s bullshit.” 

“I’m not _people_ , Harry. I’m me. I’m not lying to you I’m… I’m trying to take care of myself. I’m trying to _be here_ in the best way I possibly can because now I have to. I have no choice.”

“I thought _I_ took care of you,” Harry whispered. He felt suddenly cold, as if the sun had gone dark, but the light from outside negated that theory; somehow cold sunlight terrified him more than darkness. 

“I—” Louis stuttered and drew a hand down his face, making a slight scratchy sound in the silence as his palm rubbed over ginger scruff. “Not as well as I need. We’ve discussed this.” 

“But I’ve checked in, I’ve been there, I’ve asked you how you—” 

“Don’t, please,” Louis took Harry’s hands in his and squeezed his fingers before continuing. When he met Harry’s eyes there were tears there, and his nose and cheeks had begun to stain red. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say, and I’m only going to say it once. I want you to listen to me and I want you to believe me, because I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. For years, really, since everything fell apart. Harry,” Louis bit his lip and two tears tracked down his cheeks, “The first moment I met you I knew who you could become. People like you are rare, rare flowers. And god I’ve loved watching you grow, watching you blossom from that soft little boy into who you are now. I’m so proud of you.” 

“No, Lou, don’t, please stop,” Harry sobbed, knowing somewhere in his gut what came next, what that preface meant. “I never wanted to be the only one, I _never_ asked for this I—” 

“Maybe not intentionally, but—”

“Not _intentionally?_ ” 

“You suck up all the oxygen in the room Harry! You leave noone else space to become anything because you’re too busy blossoming or some shit, and it’s not even your fault it’s just… there’s no place for me in this anymore. I’m stuck in a loop and I feel crushed and I’m tired of playing someone I’m supposed to be.” 

Harry yanked his hands free and slipped from the stool to the floor, landing hard on his knees. He buried his face in Louis’ hips and wrapped his arms so tightly around the other man that at first they both wobbled. 

“No, no, no, no,” Harry repeated, his brain glitching at the prospect that this was the real thing. This wasn’t an amicable separation between two grieving, exhausted partners, this was a well thought out exodus, a reasoned argument that no number of love declarations would mend. Suddenly an abyss opened beneath him and the world parted into two, his former life with Louis and a future without him, and Harry hung on to his ex-everything like that dark nothingness was their kitchen floor and the only thing that separated him from an existence without the love of his life was how tightly he held to Louis’ legs. 

“Stop it, Harry.” 

The words were crisp and sharp, vexed even, with an air of exasperation like one would talk to a young child. This whipped Harry worst of all, slashing at his already tender pride and stinging so much that he let go and pulled away. 

“Can’t you see yourself. How selfish you’re being. I tell you I can’t grow like this and you trap me in place against you.” After wiping the tears from under his eyes, Louis turned and walked from the kitchen, calling back, “After I grab my things I’ll be going.” 

Harry didn’t move from his knees until well after the garage door had opened and closed and the sun had started to dip in the blue California sky. When he finally tried to stand sometime in the late afternoon, his legs wobbled and ached and cramped. With less grace than even his usual clumsy stumbling around, made it to the couch and collapsed into its cushions, too devastated even to cry. He had energy only to breathe, in and out, over and over, as seconds inched by him, pushing him further into a new future without the only person to which he’d ever given his soul. 

*

A week passed, and people worried, his manager mostly, but also Gemma, the only member of his family who knew the extent to which he and Louis had parted and then briefly come back together. His sister’s advice of fresh air and moving on wasn’t something he could accept yet, mainly because it felt wrong to try and put Louis behind him when clearly he had been the one at fault; but despite literal hours of soul searching, Harry still couldn’t grasp how that was true. 

He made a list one day of all his own faults, and they weren’t terribly surprising to him: _jealous, holds grudges, can get moody, superficial, suck up, competitive, ambitious, selfish_. He’d known these things about himself for years, though, and had worked at lessening such immature impulses, and especially towards the man he loved. This ‘sucking up all the oxygen,’ as Louis had said, was a fault that Harry couldn’t place, and certainly one he’d never purposely allowed. He brought this up to Jeff one day, then to Gemma, his mother, and then Niall, but every one of them skirted around his feelings when giving an answer, as if they knew exactly what Louis meant but were reticent to lay such knowledge at Harry’s feet. It was the pity in their faces that drove Harry to do the only logical thing he could to solve the burning mystery of Louis’ accusation. 

He texted Liam from the sorrowful nest he’d made on the couch. 

_Zayn’s most current mobile, do you have it?_

_Ya_

_I need it_

_Um, okay. After five years?_

_YES, Liam._

_What happened??_

Harry fought the urge to throw his phone across the room. Liam could so easily get under his skin even when his sanity wasn’t shattered.

_God, is Louis okay?_

_He’s more fine than me. Please can I have the number._

_Sure. Whatever’s going on though, don’t take it out on him. Did Louis leave again? Are you okay?_

Sometimes Liam could be such an insightful, infuriating human being. Harry snorted and ended up heaving into new sobs again. The phone screen swam in front of him and he copied the number Liam sent. A few touches of his finger later and a clean text conversation appeared. He didn’t hesitate, and as soon as he hit the little send arrow he threw his phone to the carpeted floor and gave in to a new round of wailing before falling asleep. 

A soft buzzing roused him and he instinctively grabbed for his phone and answered.

“Hello?” 

“Hi, Harry.” 

He’d not heard that accent in so long. Zayn’s voice kicked the sleep from his brain and he sat up, fully remembering his former pitiful state. The house lay in complete darkness, only moonlight dinting in from the windows. 

“You answered.” 

“Yeah. Figured something was really fucked up for you to contact me. No one’s gone again?” 

“Gone…” Harry didn’t realise what he meant for a moment. “God, no. No. Did… did Louis tell you when that happened?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I never knew.” Harry inhaled, unsurprised to find his ribcage hurt from crying. “I wanted you to tell me something, if you can. No one else will give me the truth and… I need it.” 

“The truth?” Zayn laughed softly before continuing, “You’ve lost him haven’t you? Fucking hurts doesn’t it?” 

Harry bit his lip so hard blood began to pool against his tongue. “Don’t compare us, for fuck’s sake.” 

“Get off your princess pony, Harry, I loved him too. I fucked him too, you know, he ever tell you that? Ever tell you how I would take care of him when the play acting got too much and you were too busy ‘networking’ to see how much it was all destroying him? He didn’t, did he? He wouldn’t have wanted to hurt you, of course, not precious Harry Styles, the golden goose.” 

“No, h-he—” Harry tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, “I knew, but I didn’t ask why. It’s mostly why I’ve never called.” 

“I know.” Zayn laughed again. “Always been jealous, that hasn’t changed. He was the best thing in my life, you know that, right? So he’s broken your heart too now. What do you want to know, how many fucks before he’s out of your system?” 

“Louis said I didn’t leave enough room for him. I need to know what that means. I need to know how I can fix it.” 

Zayn remained silent for a long while. In the darkness Harry began to see shadows swaying, patches of black that slunk around edges and down walls and across the ceiling like giant streamers in an invisible wind. 

“Can’t really believe this is why you finally call me, but then again, I can. Of course it’s about you.” Zayn sounded equally smug and disappointed. “I have no reason to keep Lou’s secrets anymore, but I’m not sure it’s as easy as that.” 

“Louis and I had never had secrets from each other.” 

Zayn’s laugh was hollow. “That’s the thing, it wasn’t really a secret, it’s just you never realised, even if everyone else did. Literally everyone else. The funny thing is it’s Louis’ fault as much as yours, because he wouldn’t just fucking tell you, he said your burden was hard enough, so he just carried it all. But you were so self absorbed you never noticed anyway.”

“I’m serious, Zayn, I _don’t know_.” 

“Ya, and that’s my whole point.” Zayn’s tone got gentler. “I’ve missed you all. I’ve suffered too.” 

Harry swallowed down his rearing indignation. “I’m sorry. The things I said last time, they were cruel. I just didn’t want you to give up on us. There was a _plan_ , Zayn, and you just skipped out and left us hanging and we had to redo it all, feeling like a piece of us was hacked off. I didn’t want you to leave.” 

“I _had_ to, though, just like Louis had to, and I bet you begged him too, didn’t you. Did you cry and plead and argue? I bet he was kinder than me though, bet he didn’t get into a screaming match with you until security had to rip you away.” Zayn paused, his silence pregnant. “You know I’ll never forgive you for making him choose that day. Your inability to let people leave you cost me the best friend I ever had.” 

Taking in a ragged breath Harry hiked his knees to his chest and held them there, wishing he could fold in tighter, crush down like a black hole, rearrange his atoms until they fitted together with no spaces for Louis to linger in, until the only man he’d ever loved could be squeezed from his essence, distilled into a bitter perfume of regret and undying devotion and, apparently, selfishness. 

“Thank you for calling. I don’t expect we’ll talk again very soon.” 

“Unless you actually care about how I’m doing,” Zayn amended. 

“I—I do care.” 

“Well you have my number now, don’t you? My advice is to let him go. What’s that quote my mum has up somewhere, that if something is truly yours, set it free, and if it never comes back, it wasn’t yours anyway. Bye, Harry.” 

With a click Zayn was gone, and Harry found himself alone in the swimming darkness. 

*

It took Harry four weeks of coming and going between London and LA to gather all of Louis’ things into two large cardboard boxes in the living room; clothes that had been mixed in with his, momentos, winter hats, odds and ends, socks, their stash of toiletries he’d never bothered to go through because eventually, of course, Louis would… 

If he just pleaded enough, just called needy and helpless, Louis would give in, Louis would… 

Los Angeles couldn’t do anything but spear sunshine down at him every fucking day of the week. He wanted the violet fields bordering the moor, he wanted the wet grass and soaking bark of perpetual fog, a safe, thin cocoon within which to fall into a mire of feelings and wallow. Sunlight and blue sky made Harry feel as vulnerable as a vampire, and not the Twilight kind. 

He drove in silence through the heart of LA to the house Louis rented. The gate registered his car’s tag and let him in, closing swifting behind him. Two other cars were parked in the drive, neither of which Harry recognised. He hadn’t called in advance since he hadn’t been able to bring himself to communicate with Louis at all, but hopefully he could just drop the boxes off in the garage and be on his way. 

As he got out of the car a blaze of red hair tore out from the front door. Oli greeted him with a big smile and a slap on the back. 

“Harry! Weren’t expecting you. Louis isn’t home, actually.” 

“That’s, um, fine, I’m just dropping some stuff off. If you could open the garage, that’d be great.” 

“Sure, sure,” Oli nodded, setting about tapping in the garage code on the outside key and standing with both hands on his hips as the mechanical door rose slowly. 

“I can get it from here.” 

Oli smiled and pointed to a button helpfully marked ‘close.’ “Just press this when you’re done then.” 

It took all of three minutes to get the boxes inside, but Harry lingered a bit, looking around the garage. Besides Louis’ car and a collection of amps, it had two side doors, one of which, directly to the back, was ajar. Not wanting any type of weather to damage Louis’ things, he went to close it properly before he left. As he turned the knob though, Harry heard the echoing decay of a laugh he knew far too well. 

In seconds he had opened the door fully and discovered it led to a large backyard surrounded by hedges and garden beds and lush with a thick carpet of imported grass. As he set foot on the spongy turf he heard Louis’ laugh once again. Cursing Oli under his breath, he started forwards; he wouldn’t leave Louis’ things and not say goodbye after a decade spent together like some embarrassed one night stand on a walk of shame. That would not be how this ended. 

He stayed flush to the side of the house as he walked, careful to not knock into any of the cutesy garden things that looked decidedly unlike Louis. Eventually he came to the back patio and saw where the laugh was coming from: two large lawn chairs, their backs to him, facing the mountains, right in the direct heat-warm rays of the sun. Suddenly very guilty, Harry flattened himself against the corner of the house, able to see the patio but unable to be seen himself. 

“But you haven’t said which is your favourite yet.” 

“Mmm, I might upset you.” 

“Nah, love, no worries there, I’ve heard it all.” 

“You say that, but you artist types are sensitive creatures.” 

Louis’ bell-like laugh rang out again. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard that much joy in his ex’s voice. 

“Alright, well, if you promise. It’s not _Kill My Mind_ , and it’s not _Walls_. It’s actually _Only The Brave_.” 

“I don’t mind that at all, mate. That’s one of my favourites too.” 

“For obvious reasons, I think it really says everything about who you are.” 

Harry froze as an arm reached between the gap of the two chairs and stayed stretched that way. 

“C’mere.” 

“You come.”

Louis stood and flipped his fringe, his skin sunkissed and tan in the tank top and shorts he wore, and swung one leg over the other lawn chair before depositing himself in the unknown man’s lap. 

“Tell me your least favourite.” 

“No chance.” 

“Kisses will not save you,” Louis giggled, and Harry could see his bare feet flailing. “Tell me.” 

“If this gets me banished to the guest room...” 

“Fook’s sake love, have some balls.” 

“I’ll take yours, thanks very much.” 

“Later,” Louis laughed, and Harry heard a soft slapping sound. 

“ _Perfect Now_. It’s like _Little Things_ but… worse? Is that honest enough for you? God. Sorry Louis, I just can’t even place it on the album, like… it doesn’t make sense to me.” 

“Ah, well, that would be beca—”

A garden gnome, of all things, sent Harry sprawling into the grass. 

“The _fook_!” 

Louis was over him in an instant, eyes wide in surprise, cheeks pink in what Harry hoped was interrupted arousal and not rage. 

“I, um,” he started, trying and failing to stand three times, “B-brought some s-stuff back and um,” 

“You brought my stuff over?” 

“Yes.” 

Louis’ stance relaxed slightly. 

“Oli said you weren’t home. Sorry.” 

Louis pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Right.” 

“Hi there,” a svelte, black haired man said, stepping next to Louis and gently placing an arm around his waist. Louis folded into the touch subconsciously, the soft sway of his hips towards the other man so much like how he used to lean against Harry. “I’m Chi.” 

For a moment Harry wanted to yell a battle cry and spring on the usurper, but his burst of jealousy was soon doused by despair and regret. Instead he smiled and held out his hand. 

“Harry,” he said quietly. 

“ _The_ Harry?” The man turned swiftly to Louis with a look of shock on his face. 

“My ex, yeah,” Louis confirmed, cringing as he said it, his eyes searching Harry’s for a sign that he was okay with this, that it wasn’t too painful to hear. 

Because even now, with a new beautiful lover that made him laugh, Louis was still looking out for him, still trying to protect him, still reassuring, still nurturing, still loving, like he had been since X Factor when he’d asked Harry for an autograph, telling him that he would go far, that he would make it. 

Harry blinked rapidly against the swarming tears that crept up his throat. He didn’t really succeed, but he started to speak anyway.

“I can answer your question, Chi, about the song.” Harry wiped his eyes fiercy. “He wrote it for me. I’ve had, um… I’ve been figuring out gender things for a while now and sometimes it was really hard for me to feel, um, _real_ , you know, in my skin.” Harry paused, amazed that the sun penetrating his pores felt like an exculpation. “We’d just stopped touring and I had to bulk up for this movie and, um, I had to cut my hair… and my jeans didn’t fit anymore, my black ones,” Harry glanced at Louis but quickly looked back down to the grass, “And my, I guess it’s dysphoria, but it was hard to see myself the way I had started to, as pretty, as feminine. And I didn’t have a stage anymore and, um, that’s where she had always lived and, um, I didn’t know how to bring her into my life, I guess, make her more than something I slipped into when I performed. I’d never had enough time to think about that kind of thing before and… suddenly I felt like someone had taken half of me away. I became really depressed. I stopped wanting to dance and stuff.” 

Harry saw out of the corner of his eye that Oli had joined them, off to the left, poised like a spring against a myriad of possibilities. Harry kept going, the words tumbling from him now, each new one widening the once pinprick-sized hole in his dam. 

“You get these, like, messages, everywhere you go, that there’s only one way to be feminine or masculine, that you have to like, look a certain way or have certain body parts or whatever, and no one had ever told me that the me inside _was_ the real me. That whatever I am, I’m me, no matter if I’m thin or if I have scruff or my hair’s short… that I can claim myself just as I am. That I’m perfect _now_.” 

Harry felt tears dripping off his chin. He roughed them away with the cuff of his sleeve and chanced a look at Louis. “So Louis wrote me that song. I’ve always been his queen, since he was eighteen.” Harry chuckled at the reference, chuckled through a soft sob. “Never needed a crown. He always had loved me for who I was, not who people saw me as.” 

Oli moved in closer and held out a handkerchief, which Harry took gratefully, plopping the cloth over his whole face, the sunlight red against his eyelids as he wiped his dripping nose and smeared cheeks. 

When he emerged Louis was dabbing tears as well, Chi standing steady beside him, a bemused expression on his face. 

“That’s really beautiful, then,” the black haired man stated, squeezing Louis tighter in his arms. 

“It is.” Harry pulled his shoulders back and breathed into the sun, finally unafraid of its exposure. This film was better ruined, better not left to develop. Some memories needed to be let go. “That’s the kind of man Louis is, beautiful. And loyal. He’s… you really can’t find a better human, you know. Some of us celebrities are right dicks but not him. I was so lucky,” Harry nodded to himself, “So lucky. And I want him to be happy and loved forever, even if it’s not me that gets to do that.” The sun was blurring into spots now, dancing in his unshed tears. “I think sometimes people idealise their lovers, you know? Saying that only when they were together were they amazing, and regretting that their partners changed but… You should know, I don’t regret who Louis has become, even though that means he’s outgrown me, even though I’m not a part of him anymore. He’s perfect now.” 

Harry wiped at his eyes once more, clearing them enough to nod at Oli and Chi. To Louis he opened his arms, the sob caught in his chest preventing the words, “Goodbye, Lou,” from properly coming out. 

Louis understood anyway. He met Harry in the hug, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, each part knowing how to accommodate the other. Before Harry pulled away, Louis planted a kiss on his cheek. 

“Goodbye, Harry.”

Powered equally by adrenaline and sorrow, Harry retraced his steps through the yard and out the garage, completely forgetting to hit the close button as he tumbled into his car and hurriedly backed out of Louis’ driveway. 

Only when he’d gone several blocks did he pull over to the kerb and lay his forehead against the steering wheel and cry his heart out. 

*

“Promise me you won’t sleep with _all_ of them.” 

Harry grinned at his sister through the phone camera. “And why would I promise that, Prudence?” 

“Ugh, you’re such a slut, I’m so envious.” 

“Hey, you’re _engaged_.” 

“Yeah but everyone wants that ‘fuck everything that breathes’ phase. Especially when they’re all models at a freaking Gucci show. And especially the freedom that comes with it when you’re a man.” 

Harry froze mid laugh and began to chew on his lip.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking. Sorry, really I am. I’m gonna shut up now.”

“It’s fine, Gems. I mean you’re right, I can’t get preggers or anything.” 

“Wish you could, though, don’t you.” Gemma’s tone was sympathetic, and that made it worse. 

“Well.” Harry tried for a more comfortable exit. “I’ll let you know when you can be my surrogate, how’s that?” 

“I thought that was Lottie’s j—” Gemma cut herself off with a shake of her head. “I’m putting both feet all the way in my mouth today, aren’t I. Of course I’ll give you a baby someday.” 

“Thanks,” Harry said a bit mournfully, Gemma’s ‘someday’ having hit him hard. Someday used to be mere years away. Now it was indefinite. “I’m gonna go get dinner, Gems. Love you.” 

“Love you too, text me soon.” 

“I will. Bye.” 

The walk from living room to kitchen just served to remind Harry how very large the empty house was for one person. He needed to get a pet. Maybe a big pet. Maybe a big dog that didn’t shed, like a labradoo—

“Shit.” He slammed the fridge closed and opted for a frozen pizza from the freezer. After turning on the oven to heat he poured himself a glass of wine and went to sit on the porch. A soft pink glow had just begun to leak into the sky from the mountain sunset. Birds chirped around him, singing their lullabies, and Harry envied them. What he wouldn’t give to be rocking a baby in his arms, to be holding someone that was _his_ tight against his breast, to know that come what may the bond between them would be unbreakable, forever. He ached for permanence, to know that his loving would never again be wasted, that the person he loved _belonged_ to him. 

_”People don’t belong to people,”_ Harry heard his mum say, the memory of her just as real as all those years ago when he’d first found out about the divorce. _”Love between couples ends, sometimes, or changes. But you and me, honey, you’re my baby. And I will love you every single moment until the day I die, and even then I might come back and haunt you, now how would you like that?_

“I want a baby,” Harry said, aloud, to no one in particular save the birds and the sunset, so he was shocked when a soft voice replied, 

“I’ve only just come back, love, don’t you think that’s a bit soon?” 

Harry whirled, sending wine everywhere and dropping his glass with a resounding crash on the stone floor. Louis stood just outside the sliding door, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his feet spread in a wide stance, his fringe soft and unstyled and longer than Harry had seen it in a while. 

“I have a question for you,” Louis began, pacing closer swinging his shoulders and hips side to side, “Theoretically.” 

“Theoretically…” Harry repeated, his heart thumping so hard within him that he nearly couldn’t hear Louis speak. 

“Do you still love me?” 

It had been five months. What a silly question. “Louis, if you had come back after fifty years the answer would be the same.” 

“So no, then.” Louis teased, his smile brighter than even the Los Angeles sunshine. 

“Lou…” Harry sniffed, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. “You mean it?” 

“If you still mean it, yes.” 

“I won’t even breathe. All the oxygen is yours, Lou.” 

“Silly,” Louis closed the distance between them and gathered Harry in his arms. “I think there’s enough for us both. I’m going to tell you what I need now… maybe I should have always. Maybe it backfired, convincing myself I didn’t need as much nurturing, eh?” 

“I’ll nurture the fuck out of you, Lou.”

“Will you, baby?” Louis squeezed him tight. “Shit, I’ve missed you. Darling,” Louis nosed into the dip of Harry’s neck and inhaled deeply. “Will you still nurture the fuck out of my cock, too?” 

Harry was dropping to his knees before Louis’ sentence had cleared the air, fumbling with the waistbands of both Louis’ trackies and pants, finally pulling both down simultaneously and exposing Louis’ naked thighs and hips to the pastel sunset. He was soft, limp and lovely, like a ripe fruit nestled in a tree of ginger moss, tender and hanging there just for Harry’s lips to pluck. With zero hesitation Harry open his mouth and kissed, his hands gripping Louis’ hips as he nibbled and licked, adorations that were soon met with jolting rises, gradual growth of length and width, until Louis’ erection peaked and each shudder of his body resulted in his bright slit emerging ever farther from his foreskin. 

“Baby…” Louis breathed, fingers finding their old familiar paths through Harry’s curls. 

“Exactly,” Harry stood and discarded his trousers in one swift motion, thankful he hadn’t bothered with pants that morning. 

“Right here?” Louis giggled and his eyes wrinkled up, the creases multiplied from when Harry had last counted them. 

“Right here, right now, in the sunlight,” Harry begged, a surge of want gripping him. With utter sincerity Harry pulled his cheeks apart with one hand and braced against the house with the other. 

“Oh love,” Louis chuckled and smacked Harry’s rear, “Get your beautiful ass inside, I’m not fucking you dry against the wall.” 

They didn’t make it far before Harry toppled them to the carpet, unable to both walk and kiss the way he needed to, the way he ached to, anymore. If kisses could kill you Harry was willing to be the first victim; without Louis’ steadying hand he’d have never come up for air. 

“Lou, god I missed you.” 

“I know, love.” Louis placed his palms atop Harry’s shoulders and sat back, his heavy cock lightly bouncing against Harry’s. “It meant a lot to me, what you did that day. It meant everything.” 

“It was the truth,” Harry whispered, voice already wrecked. “Every word. But I still want you terribly, awfully. I still want you as mine. I think I’ll always be jealous Lou, and I’m petty and oblivious and immature and—” 

Louis kissed him hard, tongue and teeth and jaw. “I know.” 

“And I’m—”

Louis kissed him again, this time lowering his hips, and Harry forgot what he was going to say. The slow, tantalising pressure of Louis pressed to him was nearly unbearable. 

“Babies, Lou,” Harry croaked out, squirming, desperate for relief. 

“Want me to knock you up, darling?” Without waiting for an answer Louis retrieved yet another stashed bottle of lube and poured some into his hands. Gently he began the process, his warm fingers contrasting with the cool gel as they stroked against the purple skin of Harry’s rim, the crinkled folds that would so perfectly expand to join them both together, bodies nesting like stacked bowls. 

“Ready, my love?” Louis asked, his lips brushing against the pulse of Harry’s neck. 

“I’ve never wanted you any more.” 

“Harry…” Louis withdrew his fingers and laid them atop the other aching parts of Harry, “Admitting I needed more, that I couldn’t just do it all alone, was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve never been so defenceless.” 

Harry looked into his lover’s eyes, seeing there more than just the layered blue of a million memories, seeing the promise of a future he had previously thought lost to him. 

“Lou,” he propped himself up on his elbows, chest heaving, “Please tell me this is the first time in forever.” 

With a grin and a bite to his lip, Louis shook his head in wonder. “You utter sap.” 

“Well?” Harry pushed up with his hips. 

Louis’ smile faded into a look of intense concentration. He kissed Harry, lips burning hot, cock more so. Within three firm nudges it was pressing in, breaching Harry, filling him, completing him. He moaned, almost wondering if this were all some wondrous dream, this fulfilling of his every desire. His love, his Louis, his _everything_ , secure inside him, against him, where he could enfold him, cover him with his thighs, cradle him in his arms, give him heat and warmth and tightness, clench his arse in soft pulses until Louis lost all decorum and fell against him, weak with need, panting, slick with sweat and trembling on the very edge of sanity. 

“My perfect girl,” Louis breathed, his lips sucking the sparse hair of Harry’s chest now. “Love your pussy, love your perfect womb, my darling. I’m so in love with you. I’m ready for forever.” 

Harry came then, untouched and still aching, milky wetness glazing his butterfly and dripping down to adorn his laurels. 

“Baby…” Louis pressed in deep, his arms straining at both keeping himself upright and pulling forwards. Harry felt the release inside, hot, thick, expanding, flooding out from him, too much and not ever enough. He began to cry.

“Your babies, Lou, all your beautiful blue-eyed babies, I would give anything to give them a place to grow, I would give anything, _anything_ to keep them alive. I’d love them with everything in me.” 

“Sweetheart,” Louis relaxed atop him and kissed his lips again. “I would make your wishes come true, for you, love. But for me, this is all I’ll ever need. _You_ are perfect to me, now and forever.” 

Harry smiled up at him, breathing in deep enough that his chest rose, and Louis with it. In a whisper tone he began to sing.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey, you’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” 

Louis giggled, a slight flush of embarrassment tinting his cheeks, an entirely different colour from the ruddy afterglow of orgasm. They lay joined together until their bodies cooled, and then they helped each other up and kissed their way to the bathroom, where Louis complained that Harry had packed up his favourite shampoo and Harry reminded him that they had been breaking up forever and what else should he have done, and as the water warmed and pinged against their shoulders they began to make love all over again.

The End


End file.
